Harry Potter and the Game of Thrones
by 11zz121
Summary: A boy becomes engrossed in stories of war, power, battles and perilous journeys. What would happen if he wished so much something snapped and he was where he wished to be, in the middle of the wonder he read about… will it be so wondrous after all. This is a Harry Potter/Game of Thrones crossover.
1. Chapter 1

Harry potter and the Game of Thrones

Disclaimer – I in no way own harry potter or its characters etc… they belong to J.k Rowling. I also do not own Game of thrones or its characters etc… they belong to G.R. Martin I am using the characters within for my own purposes and make no money from doing so.

This is the only time a disclaimer shall be shown in this fan-fiction

Summary- A boy becomes engrossed in stories of kings and battles, magic and power. What would happen if he wished so much something snapped and he was where he wished in the middle of the wonder he read about… will it be so wondrous after all.

PROLOGUE

The wind cried out through the town, a howling that no door could hold back. The same could be said within number four private drive, set away from the road by a lush green garden and large driveway.

The boy sat huddled in his room, little more than a cloak closet beneath the stairs. It was here his relatives had kept him since he was left on their doorstep. Darkness kept to the edges as light shined through the metal grate, left open by his aunt in the morning when she came to wake him.

He could hear his cousins whine, even over the television that blared in the living room. "mummy make the noise stop I can't hear the tv."

He knew it was coming but still flinched at his aunts dulcet tone "boy you keep that racket down so my diddy dudums can hear his show" hammering on the door as if to make a point she walked off towards the kitchen, readying the meal for her husband's meeting this evening .

"It isn't me aunt Petunia, honest it isn't. It's the wind howling like the wolves that does it" he regretted saying it but he didn't think about the consequences when he answered his aunt. He knew he'd be beaten this night when his uncle heard of him talking back. If only he hadn't talked back he would have eaten tonight, it was the end of his punishment at great last and he'd ruined it.

"boy what have I told you about talking back to me! Youll have it when your uncle gets home I swear it." She continued with finishing the food preparations, so she could start on decorating the cake she had made special for tonight.

The boy held his aching stomach as it grumbled in protest of not eating for days. He thought over the book he started reading when hiding from his cousin in the library at school; Lord of the rings was his new solace when his cousin was Harry hunting with his gang. The boy allowed himself to drift into memories of the words letting them bring forth the images the words instilled. The sounds of hooves along a gravelled path, the ripple of water against the little people's raft, their rapid strokes pushing them further along the river. He could see the Hobbits in his mind's eye as if only reaching out he'd touch their hairy feet, their panicked breaths as Black horses brayed and the howling of the ring-wraiths' along the the shore from whence they came as their attempted capture became futile with the moving water.

He became so engrossed in his thoughts he didn't hear his uncle return home from work, the short conversation between his aunt and uncle nor the furious spluttering of his uncle. He did however hear his uncles bark "boy get out here now"

Stumbling out of the confines of his only sanctuary within number 4 private drive he came upon his uncles knee as it whipped up to break upon his nose. Blood flowed freely as he watched through blurry tear filled eyes, his uncle pulling his belt from his wants as he ranted. "you ungrateful little shite after all we've done for you, your aunt and I. you dare speak back to her when your freakishness was causing noises that made it impossible for Dudley to hear his programmes. You little whelp of a whore I told you, I did. I told you never to speak back to your betters and do as your told well let this be a lesson to you freak. You aren't getting anything to eat tonight or tomorrow and depending on how you do your chores, the night after either. His uncles continuous lashings soon put him into unconsciousness and with a vicious kick to his stomach he was flung into the cupboard once more.

Harry awoke lying in a pool of his blood, the cuts that left it seemingly closed over and disappeared over night. This didn't shock the boy though it had happened many times after his uncle became overzealous in his punishment. He knew this day would bring as the last few had, an empty stomach, more chores and physically holding himself back from making any comments that would displease his family.

His thoughts again left him to be consumed by Lord of the Rings. He had noticed this increasingly, whenever his thoughts brought him upon subjects he disliked to think about they would wonder to his new favourite pass time reading, imagining himself in the shoes of the Hobbits or wielding Gandalfs staff fighting orcs and goblins alike, casting magical spells, shooting impossible targets with bow, he wished he could be like the heroes he read about, like Aragorn. No one would push him around if he was like Aragorn, he wanted to be the ranger people hazard to call Stranger. If only dreams came true alas he was but a boy, a freak, a waste of space as his family would lead him to believe and those that dwell on dreams forget to live.

He could hear the 'thud' of his aunts steps as she crept downstairs ensuring her big, strong men upstairs wouldn't wake only to shout when she reach the bottom "BOY up, get up, NOW!" her footsteps hidden by the lush carpet drew her to the kitchen to start on brewing a cup of tea waiting in her accustomed chair so she could keep an eye on the boy and ensure he didn't burn the bacon.

Harry was soon finished with breakfast his aunt calling Vernon and Dudley down to eat while she sent him off to get ready for school. Showering, brushing his teeth, and dressing he was soon ready for the long walk to school. Setting off way before Dudley, he would get dropped off at school, he walked his thoughts again wandering to his book and the possibilities the next chapter held for his eager eyes.

Arriving at school he found himself with a little time to himself before the bell rung to go to class. Flying through the halls he soon found himself amongst the books of the library. Passing shelves with unwanted books, he traced his steps towards the fiction area of the library goingto his hiding place allowing the false panel to fall before reaching in and claiming his prize.

The words flashed before his eyes, images brought forth with them. The fellowships flight across kazud dum, Gandalfs last stand against the Balrog. He imagined himself there, helping, fighting and stopping the great evil that befell Gandalf.

The bell rang shredding his thoughts and making him hurry to class. Sitting through the day was torture, his mind wandering back to his stories even when Dudley tried to get him in trouble he sat and daydreamed till the lunch bell rang out announcing an end to the lesson and a break for food and play.

Eating his meagre meal thankful he was able to eat at school if only so the Dursleys didn't look suspicions feeding one child and not the other. He was soon buffered outside by the mass of students searching for the fresh air and the sun outside. He found himself besiege by his cousin and his gang in no time and started his running stretch for his sanctuary within the library.

The days grew dim closer to December when the school concerned about his lack of attention in class had him take an eye test to find he needed glasses. The Dursleys were called and told to buy the child some glasses so he could go back to concentrating in class instead of day dreaming.

After paying for the glasses and taking the boy home Vernon soon had his belt in hand beating away at the boy for making him spend his hard earned money. The boy was once more left bleeding in his cupboard thoughts raging over his mistreatment his thoughts drifting to his stories of kingdoms and battles, of magic and medieval like settings wishing he was there within the words but then his thoughts drifted to his one and only friend, if he was there he would never see his friend Robb again he wouldn't talk to the boy who also found comfort within the books he so dearly loved.

A wind grew within the small confines of his cupboard, the sky outside dark in night churned purple and blue and green and started swirling. A thunderclap followed by a drum woke the boy up to find himself still bloody yet healed in an unfamiliar field, the sky above him and a clattering of metal around him, a continuous drum of swords against shields and the whiny of horses with riders on their backs stabbing down at armoured footmen.

Banners blew in the wind, proud men bearing them allowing the sigils they held to be seen throughout the field. A battle was clamouring around him and yet no one paid him any mind. Like any ten year old he panicked looking for some source of solace. Finding it with a nearby wood he sped forward weaving beneath swiping swords, jumping beneath mounted steeds getting closer to the woods with every step.

A man stepped into his path stopping him in his tracks, a wicked grin plastered on his face, thrusting forward with his sword only to find his target gone and a pain in his abdomen looking down to see the hilt of a dagger stabbed into his side the small hand of a boy wrapped around it his frightful eyes wide at what he had done.

Searching the ground for any more weapons he could lift, in an attempt to comfort himself with some way of defending himself. He found a bow and a quiver of arrows; attached by a leather strap to a dead man's back he struggled pulling it over his head cutting himself on a fallen blade nearby.

Blood fell from his hand running down his arm making his skin clammy in the red stickiness that is his life's blood. He picked up a weathered shield to give him some cover as he ran forward into the woods. He ran far into the forest keeping the fighting to his back moving as far as his legs would allow. He fell down a precipice into a muddy bog that arrowed him to see a covered badger hole under a trees roots. Struggling forwards he crawled into the hole clawing out mud to make it wider, allowing him to drag himself and the armaments he took into relative safety.

Staying hidden beneath the roots of the tree he shivered in denial, he had killed a man. A man who was trying to kill him and yet he killed him with instincts he didn't know he had he moved like the wind flowing around his blade and stabbing with power that would usually be beyond him. He didn't know what happened it was as if his rational brain shut down and a powerful hidden part awoke that allowed his moves to seem as if he had been a true warrior.

His fear turned to a fitful sleep the day grew old birthing the night from its embers as the sun waned into the furthermost sea allowing the moons brightness to be seen in its full glory. He awoke to the patter of rain against the bog and water running through the mud into his little hole. Wiping his hands into the clayey mess trying to clog the cracks that allowed the water in, he left it as a bad job and decided to retrace his footsteps in hope of finding something to eat, or someone to help him, or anything.


	2. Chapter 2

HARRY

In the rising light, dampness clung to his skin as he ran through the underbrush peeking through the leaves weighing and deciding where best to strike. He was once more against the edge of the battlefield looking to forage and plunder that which wasn't used by the dead any more, or excess for that of the living. It had been weeks and yet he still called, the badger hole he found his first day, his shelter.

His plunder had become less grand as of late. The dead had been buried, the armies dead or alive moved on and yet he stayed. He was a boy of ten, living the life of a scavenger. No man paid him any heed, he was a shadow in their midst passing by them like the wind between their fingers always there but never to be held.

Picking up a large breast plate he strapped it to his back. With a little hammering it could help form a greater wall for his shelter, stopping the rains from flooding him out once again. He still crept around the battlefield never wandering far from his woods. The trees had become like friends to him, he knew their bark, their colouration, the way the leaves whispered in the breeze as if calling to him with voices long lost.

The battle lasted days even as the men dwindled their energy spent they called out in their foreign voices, battle cries of blood lust and promised pain. He stayed huddled in his hole listening for an end in the madness he could never imagine. He didn't come out until his stomach growled in protest of not having sustenance, looking for food for fresher water than that which ran through the walls. He found what he needed in a small encampment, still burning from the victors of the battle. He found bread and salted meat, wineskins and waterskins, dried fruits, oats and grains, bagging them all and dragged them back hording them away.

In his ten year old mind he knew he couldn't survive unless he adapted. He knew nothing about surviving in the wild or of hunting animals. He didn't know which vegetation was edible, yet he muddled his way along making many mistakes and learning that which would allow him to continue to survive. He learnt to hunt first, scavenging became increasingly difficult in time as the battlefield spoils became rotten or plunder by others. His first capture was that of a rabbit, not much but skin and bones yet it gave him a deep satisfaction in knowing he could and would hunt for the food he needed.

He then learnt botany in a round about ways, knowing which berries he could eat and that he could not, which trees had the best wood to burn and those that was better to reinforce his hole. He next learnt the art of digging not out of necessity but more for the fact he needed more room in his hole to store his food and hide his weapons. He started by hand and soon moved to wood and steel creating his own crude spade out of little more than a round stick with a beaten great helm with its visor removed.

It took his twenty eight days by his count to enlarge and reinforce his shelter. In the time he had depleted his food wares and ran out of wine and water making do with boiling the water he found at the edges of the bog to cleanse it. He was once again the hunter, setting traps and shooting small animals that weren't fast enough to run away from his eager eyes. Hares and rabbits, squirrels and birds non were safe from his sight. He found felling a great beast such as a deer was stupid and wasteful, he couldn't lift such an animal with his small frame and so after his third deer he stayed well clear and allowed them to do as they would, finding it more fruitful to kill the animals he could carry back without drawing attention to wolves again.

It was in his first few days the wolf pack had found him in the middle of his hunt. The hunter became the hunted and he was soon trapped between the wolves and the fast flowing river. He could not swim yet, he Dursleys never so fit to have him learn and he hadn't come across the river in his wanderings. The alpha leapt first attempting to rip at his throat but once again like on the battlefield his instincts snapped forwards shoving away his rational mind and bringing forth the power he held within. One stab of his blade and the wolfs throat was cut, the others having seen their alpha feld attacked as one and yet he spun between their bites cutting away their flesh spattering their hides with holes and leaving them to bleed to death as he ran off trying to find his shelter once more.

A year passed and the boy was still their hidden beneath the tree sheltered by its roots. He hunted the forest, scavenging that which he could and surviving to the best of his abilities. They were his woods and he had come to love them, they were his and he had become a part of them. The woods were hospitable in their own ways but the people who came speaking in their strange tongues were not. They had tried many times to kill and rob him, reaching their greasy fingers towards him grabbing at his clothes and finding nothing between their clasped fingers.

He killed again but they did not weigh on his mind as the first did. These bandits and thieves were that which stood between him and living, he would not allow their malice to stop him from doing that which every fibre of his being wanted; to live. His first kill however he could of avoided by just running away their was many chances, what with many men fighting and crying out in blood lust he could of slipped away without the need of killing him and yet he moved on his thoughts never dwelled long on his sorrows.

He stilled in fear. For once he found himself near a small fishing village. It was his first foray from the woods looking for other people. He heard many odd words coming from a building lit by candles within the windows, one stood out to him; called many times it seemed with pewter flagons clanked together after saying the name 'Targaryen.'

EDDARD

The cries of birds swam through the foggy river shores as he watched astride his destrier. His friend Robert lead the charge upon the Targaryen lines hammering his way through in a fit of rage searching for his sister Lyanna, Roberts bride to be and future queen. Rhaegar had been battling their forces all morning tiring him when Robert crashed upon him with his warhammer. The fight was that of legends but the end was near and when Roberts hammer smashed a hole through Rhaegars defence the battle was won, with his dying breath he stabbed into Robert cutting his ankles from beneath him and injuring the king to be.

Eddard had controlled the men mostly but he jumped into the fray seeing his friend fall. No man could come between him and his brother in all but blood. He slashed his way forwards unbidden by the enemy when they saw him cutting through their ranks, like a hot knife through butter.

Coming upon Robert he escorted him out of harm's way the battle won but still a few Targaryen troops fought in a last ditch of desperation. Having Robert seen to by the maester at a nearby hold he was ordered forwards to drive the army into the gap left by Rhaegars defeat and into Kings landing to hold siege against the walls that had never been overtook.

Leaving Robert was not an easy feet for 'Ned' they had been fostered together at the Eyrie under Jon Arryn, and had since then been inseparable. He did as his liege ordered and marched the offensive line south coming unhindered into the plains of kings landing. They were greeted by an open gate and cheers throughout the city, the Lannister's army had sacked the city and were cheering over their spoils as the city burned around them.

Eddard rushed through Cobblers square towards the Red Keep unbidden by the army his banner men massed around him, like a cloak sheltering him from the storm. Walking into the throne room he found Jaime Lannister sat upon the iron throne, legs thrust over the arms languidly eating a bunch of grapes as the body of his mad king led before him dead, his sword still in his back and blood pooling on the steps.

HARRY

The fishing village was a queer place to him, the people spoke foreign words, did foreign things. There was no clean people dressed nicely, but hard worked men and women going about their daily lives. From the fisher folk he learnt, by watching how to sail a small boat and how to fish with nothing but a spear or thin twine or if he was lucky enough to find one a net, enabling him to start fishing in the waters at night when he would be unseen by their eyes.

His stomach agreed with this change in diet, he had grown bored of roast rabbit, hare and bird and needed a change that he found in fish. He didn't wander around the village when people were about but decided that keeping to himself would be the best course of action. Now at thirteen he had started to understand things were unusual about his learning abilities. He could try something for the first time and find himself not only able to accomplish the new task but he excelled at them as if he was made for learning and adapting new things.

Having lived in the wilds for over 3 years the boy had grown accustomed to life alone, his voice unused in hopes of not scaring any animals away. It was on a fine sunny day that he was spotted by a group of men heading up the road passing the village. The leader a tall broad shouldered man with a long face and a hard disposition waved him over tempting him with black break and fresh fruits.

Having been camped on the edge of the village for days, he hadn't had much time for anything else other than trying to understand to a greater degree the mysteries that was smithing. He watched as the smith whittled shafts of wood for arrows, hammered and folded metal to forge all manner of armaments. He had become engrossed one day by the sounds of the hammer against anvil and gained a greater appreciation when he realised what he could do with such a skill set. He would be able to fashion his own weapons perfected for his smaller frame, he'd be able to mould his own reinforcements for the walls of his now sheltered hovel beneath the tree.

Having not eaten in days the temptation was too great and against his better judgement he clamoured out of his hiding spot towards the offered food in hopes of sating his grumbling stomach. The man reach forwards as he came into arms reach pulling the boy in front of him giving the offered food as he looked him over. The man talked in his foreign tongue yet the boy didn't understand a word so he shrugged his shoulders and started to eat

The man watched bemusedly as his words went unheeded with but a shrug of the boys' shoulders. If he didn't know better he would say the boy couldn't understand him, he was speaking perfect common as all did in the north. He watched as the boy devoured the food in meagre minutes, not stopping to talk or drink from the offered wineskin.

Having eaten the man's food the boy tried to offer his thanks but his words weren't understood and his meaning was not made. So in a sign of thanks the boy stayed with the man helping were he could, when he could but it was not meant to be after a day and night's stay just outside the village the man and his men were readying themselves for the road to continue on their journey. Having not left the area around his woods in over three years the boy did not attempt to follow but helped where he could and waved as they left the man giving a last look over his shoulder and calling his foreign words.


	3. Chapter 3

HARRY

The winds brought the darkness, caressing the light out of existence, ushering the night in. Harry had stayed to his shelter, his roots dug deep beneath the tree he had claimed as his guardian. He was thankful for the long faced man traveling north… south? He didn't know which way; his kind nature had saved him starvation by the food he had offered. No thanks could be given and yet he tried to show his gratefulness by helping yet the man still travelled on his companions following at a trot.

It had been weeks since he had been to the village scared the man may have tipped the villagers off to his presence. Risking another trek to the village was difficult for the muscular thirteen year old. He needed supplies, supplies the village had and could offer him. He couldn't pay but he saw fit to leave something of equal of greater value in their place, his payment of sorts. He had tried his hand at netted fishing with a net he pinched the day the man left. His attempts were futile and left him frustrated with his meagre efforts and a broken net, seemingly to be cut on a jagged rock within the lake.

Travelling the walk was little more than a chore to him now, where at first he was scared of the animals and dark trees looming over him, he now sought comfort in their embraces. This was his forest. This was his sanctuary away from the bloodshead battlefield or the bandits it was his and he had come to love it. The birds chirping followed him on his path, pushing through the underbrush and picking wild berries as he passed he was soon close to the village.

Smoke from the fires nearby hurt his eyes as he stalked forward. Men sat around a camp fire set off the road tents surrounded the small contingency. He once more caught sight of that long face hidden beneath a freshly grown beard. In his arms he saw a wiggling bundle, the man seemed clumsy with his overly large hands trying to feed what seemed to be a babe that should be at the mothers' teat.

He crept forwards not but a shadow in the bushes yet the man's gaze found him, a small smile hidden beneath his beard pulled at his eyes. Waving the boy over again trying to communicate in his calm foreign words to sit before him and once more share his bread. The boy attempted to grab a roll but the man stopped him, pointing to the blackened roll he said a word then pointed to it and repeated. Understanding Harry attempted the word an attempt by the man to teach him some of his language.

The man corrected him many times before allowing him to eat, whilst the boys mouth was full he tapped one hand to his chest and said some words again repeating till the boy could say his name properly. The man gestured for the boy to follow his example, Harry but his food aside and tapped his hands to his chest saying his name the man easily copied his words. They continued their meal no more words made between them.

Harry had grown sleepy around the fire as men got into the surrounding tents, sleep hit the men fast their night watch held by the man with the small bundle still held in his fingers. Crying woke the men at sunrise. The babe had awoke hungry and allowed the world to know his displeasure at having an empty stomach. Grumbling the men readied for the day, going about their morning rituals. The boy continued sleeping where he fell the night before, the man keeping vigil over him.

Being awoke to the whiny of horses and the stamping of feet he could once more see the men gearing up to travel on. He watched sadly as horses and carriages were loaded up, he spun searching the crowd for the man only to find his kind eyes and hard face stood behind him, the babe held to his chest contently. He attempted to communicate once more the man like before just stared at him bemusedly. He then also attempted to speak and it was the boys turn to look on.

The man in a bolt of inspiration pointed to himself, a horse and then in a direction he though was south but he didn't know which way was which so he just nodded his understanding. The man then pointed at the boy looked around shrugging then pointed again to the same direction as before. The boy understood his meaning 'why stay here there is nothing for you, come with us.' The boy looked at him hopelessly pointing to himself then the woods then he pointed at the mas possessions trying to make him understand he could not give up his things. The man understood in a round about ways what the boy was trying to communicate and waved the boy into the woods, then pointing to the spot he stood calling out still knowing the boy couldn't understand he repeated the motions.

The boy scampered off to collect his things the man passing the babe to a grisly looking man with side whiskers, then set off following the boy at an easier pace with his long strides. The boy passed through bush and tree as if they weren't there the man struggling to keep up with the agile youth. Further into the woodland the boy took him an hour, two they came upon a large heart tree a face engraved high up near its branches almost impossible to see unless you knew what you was looking for. The boy patted the bark before sliding down a ravine and crawling into a moss hidden hole.

The man could hear a clattering of metal against stone as various weapons, armour and odd looking trinkets flew out of the hole. The next twenty minutes were filled with the boy deciding on what to keep and what to leave in his hiding place beneath the tree. He eventually allowed himself to part with the scrap metal and armour that would not fit him for many years, a few daggers, his homemade bow and a large black block of stone.

Between the two they made it back to the make shift encampment with all the boys gear in little more than five hours. The men had got everything packed and were eating their luncheon when the odd couple; man and boy arrived.

Men attempted to relive the man of his burdens but he said some words and the men continued on giving odd looks to the boy every now and then as the long faced man helped him load up his things onto a carriage with other assortments of boxes labelled in strange script.

Eating a small bite with the men, the train of horses and carriages set off on their journey to whence they came. Not as many men return as left but this time they returned with two new to their group a young babe still of an age that should be stuck to his mother's teats the other a well-muscled boy with strange emerald eyes and a head of black similar in look to that of a birds nest.

CATELYN

The cold winter winds blew through Winterfell as she waited in the courtyard for her lord husband and his entourage. She had been wedded and bedded, a baby put in her and her husband left for war before she really came to terms with the fact she was not a Tully anymore, nay she was a Stark of the great castle of Winterfell heart of the north and seat of power for millennia of the King of the North, before the conquest of Aegon the conqueror that is, and the subsequence yield of the northern lands to his family and their dragons.

Maester Luwin was the only one with her at the birth of their son; Robb. He had soothed her pains, pulled the baby from her loins in all but a day. He had little help from the servants not allowing them to interfere in the birth that would continue the depleted Stark line.

Life within Winterfell was difficult at first, raising a child without her lord husband was difficult, she had to stay strong the backbone that held the north together while he was warring in the south. The war had lasted three long years, and finally she would cast her gaze upon her husband presenting him for the first time with his son and heir. She did not love him; she had little time to get to know hm. She knew of his honourable deeds and those of his family before him but it was his brother she was intended for yet he died with his father at the hands of the mad king.

Having no time to truly meet the man she married, she had taken to sending ravens with messages to holdfast word had come through that her husband had been to. It was an long and arduous routine they kept having to send riders to find the men marching south to meet the Baratheon and Arryn troops so they could embark on kings landing, but they kept contact most months allowing her a glimpse of what was happening in the was whilst also finding out who this man was and if she could love him.

The servants and workers within the castle had helped her to understand what kind of man Lord Eddard Stark was. He was a compassionate, vigilant man with a seemingly cold exterior but the warmest of hearts. He was the light to the people enacting true justice on the people and allowing for a fair judgment for any crimes or disagreements before deciding the fate of those involved.

He seemed to be all that his brother was and so much more to her. She had seen her knight in shining armour in his brother, he had duelled her dear friend Petyr when he challenge him to a duel for her hand. She had not spoken to Petyr since. Eddard however was not one to fight so willingly, he would take up arms against injustices, he would talk his mind no matter the consequence he was a man that even from afar had started to take her breath away and he was finally coming home.

The clank of the portcullis opening was the first sign of movement that morning, Catelyn had awoke to her servant waking her and asking her to ready herself, Lord Eddard was on the horizon riding for Winterfell in a great line of men. Allowing the servant to help her dress she was waiting in the courtyard when the main party trotted through the gates Lord Eddard at the helm, a bundle at his shoulder and a youth on the flanks of his horse.

Walking forwards she hid a small smile as she curtsied her lord husband home his greeting a small hello before kissing her check and looking around, a small boy clung to her skirts and she bent to his height and told him what to say.

"welcome home father" stumbling forwards to hug him Eddard dropped to his knees and cradled the boy "hello son, hello Cat" stepping back Eddard held his arms out as Roderick Cassel handed him a small bundle. Pushing away the fur he presented his wife another son, she understood the meaning instantly. A great inferno of loathing erupted in her chest but she looked to her husband's eyes and nodded in acceptance. They would be having words this night of that she could guarantee.


	4. Chapter 4

A.N: Hey guys and girls, thank you for reading and all your reviews.

I hate author's notes when I read fanfics but I want to clear a few things up for the questions been given to me and so here are a few things I think you should know.

Yes I have edited the timeline, for example Robert rebellion in the book was less than a year to which I have changed it to suit my story to three years.

The ages of characters shall stay the same as in the books when they start e.g. a game of thrones book 1 of a song of ice and fire books series. Harry for obvious reason is an exception however I talk about his age within the story. An example of ages (when a book 1; a game of thrones starts):

**Starks** and their **wards** -

Robb: aged 15 Jon: aged 15 Sansa: aged 11 Bran: aged 7 Arya: aged 9 Rickon: aged 3 Theon Greyjoy: aged 19 'Big' Walder Frey: aged 6 'Little' Walder Frey; aged 6

**Baratheons** -

Joffrey: aged 13 Myrcella: aged 8 Tommen: aged 6

**Targaryens** -

Viserys: aged 23 Daenerys: aged 13

No the pairing is not Harry/Daenerys as of yet. The pairings as of yet is undecided except obvious exceptions.

About dialogue at this moment there is little dialogue to show Harrys confusion of being in a new world where he doesn't understand the language and has not yetpassed the language barrier and started learning the different tongues of Westeros nor Essos.

Same as above the lack of inner thought is to show the confusion and at the moment I have got the story moving at a very fast pace, it moves month to month rather than day to day and so it shows the passing of time and the lack of any greater thought at the time.

No I won't have Harry teach anyone 'English'

Harry shall learn magic, I shan't say when however and if it is the magic of his home world or of westeros or his own

The time line as of yet is before A Game of Thrones so the characters ages are younger at the moment however for those who haven't read the books or watched the tv series; it starts when Robert Baratheon enters Winterfell with his entourage.

Now there's the end of that long authors note. Now onto the story hope you enjoy and review

ROBB

The years flew by in little to no time for the young seven year old, his father had returned home and peace hung heavily in the air after the years of winter and war. The two boys his father brought with him; one a boy named Jon, his bastard brother who was almost a year younger than himself and a muscle toned teen named Harry. Harry was a boy of little worth, he couldn't even speak common let alone any other language any of them had heard of before including maester Luwin.

Harry spent most days with the maester. Trying to learn common, maester Luwin pointing out things within his solar and study saying them and having the boy repeat until they became second nature on his tongue. It was a long winded process, the boy was very intelligent according to his father and maester Luwin but Robb couldn't see it. The boy would sup at the end of the hall eat his fill and leave to the room given to him by his Lord father. He helped out when he wasn't learning that was true. He helped in the stables saddling horses, in the smithy passing tools or hammering horse shoes ate into the night, in the kitchen by bringing in game he had caught himself. Harry had made himself an invaluable member of the Stark household and yet Robb would mistrust him until he could talk with him, laugh and jest in good humour or nought.

Having ate his fill when breaking his fast Robb made his way out into the yard readying himself for the drills that ser Rodrik would have Jon and him make to strengthen their sword arms and help them learn balance when holding a blade or shooting a bow or any kind of weapon found within Winterfells vast armoury. He was a better swordsman and rider than his bastard brother Jon but Jon always made the fights more difficult as of late catching up with him when it came to swords at least. Harry however had a much greater grasp on swords than any teen he had ever met. He knew how to slash and swipe, thrust and parry and control the field, yet he was hardly ever allowed to train due to his need to learn his words and spellings. Lucky for the teen his spellings came much quicker than his words he could write in short sentences now which made it easier now after months of learning for Luwin to teach him his words.

Robb had been having less of his own lessons thanks to his fathers need of Luwin to teach the boy Harry. Of all this made him content with the boy around, he still got taught his numbers and tactics and maps but never to such a great depth or time that he got bored and restless as he used to. He missed the times he spent with Luwin, not what they brought with them however.

His father had taken to the boy as well. It was unlike him, commoners always said his father was a hard man made of ice, with a kindness within him true, but ice none the less to those he did not know. He would welcome men within his hall, let them eat his food and drink his mead, giving all the niceties that those who had the privilege to sup with him deserved due to their station but he would not talk with them as he would with those he knew.

The winter was finally passed and spring was in bloom. Trees and flowers he had never seen came to bloom. Igniting the surrounding woods and field with colours that had once been but a bleak white field, muddy brown trees and darkness. Robb liked the newness to the world that was brought with the spring, he loved the colours and the warmness of the sun that before had been but a consolation due to the snow. He however, like all Starks, knew winter was once more coming.

HARRY

"septong" … "septi"…. "septon_" _the words felt heavy in his mouth." _Again like that boy_"

Harry had been at this for months and he still felt like a new-born babe learning to talk. Words came to him easily but putting them in sentences that was an entirely different matter. His teacher; maester Luwin was a kindly old man, he had learnt through long days and months of his teachings to understand he was somewhat a wise man/servant who lived and worked for the long faced man and his family. Through the months his understanding of the languages being taught to him grew vastly, he understood that learning the language so quick was unnatural. No man, woman or child could learn the languages as fast as him and to such a degree that it sounded like his first language. He had learnt common, valyrian or the bastardisation of it anyways, high valyrian, asshai'i. he had also learnt bits of the old tongue from reading the glyphs around winterfell and dothraki from one of the long faced man's many friends; a worn looking man wrapped in bar furs.

He held back on informing the good maester his knowledge and prowess at languages. It allowed him more time to see what kind of people these northerners, as he came to hear the region at one point, were. So far he had found a great love for the people and their simplistic lives, growing fond of the cool breeze jumping over the castles high walls and the sight of snow in the distance forests.

He had yet to travel from the castle, he was becoming bored of the monogamy of his lessons and the same routine day after day. One night he snuck out of his chambers and ran to the nearby village looking at the locked away goods within the stalls set up in the market, scanning the fields at the crops growing and chasing away a fox gnawing in its attempt to catch them. The village was peaceful; he sat on a small bridge gaping the two shores of a rivers together as he looked at the stars. It wasn't until he felt a hand o his shoulder did he rise, fumbling with his furs searching for a weapon to defend himself from whoever grabbed his panic he shouted out in perfect common "_let go of me_."

"calm down young one, since when could you speak common so greatly"

Harry looked around in panic to find the Lord Stark, hand still on his shoulder looking at his serenely.

"I was just erm… Ive been able im sorry my Lord"

"sorry is not a word I was expecting for an answer. How long have you been able to speak common"

"a few week" Harry lied easily. It had been months since he learnt but Lord Stark didn't need to know that.

"Now that you can talk boy, what is your name?"

"It's Harold my Lord, just Harold but everyone calls me Harry" having already decided on the lengthening of his name.

"well Harold now is not the time for star gazing. Sleep awaits you and I, for tomorrow is now for the learning of wielding a sword, bow, horse, tactics and so on. You shall learn with my sons and allow Luwin some peace from mothering over you. It would seem his attempts at teaching you were far greater than he could ever imagine"

"Thank you my Lord, but if I may? Why are you helping me and allowing me to stay and feeding me and all the other things you've done for me?"

"calm down lad, I allow you to stay because I see in you great potential and I feel it in my bones as I can feel the winter is once more on approach. Winter after all is coming."

JON

The cloudless sky was greeted by birds chirping as Jon woke. He allowed himself a bit of time to himself before getting up and readying himself to break his fast. Dining on black sausage, bacon, bread and a mug of beer to wash it down, he was soon outside with his brother and surprisingly the boy, he had taken to calling shadow in his mind.

Ser Rodrikc ame out of the armoury arms laden with an assortment of weapons; many were slimmer lighter swords or wooden staff that would allow him and Robb to wield them. He also brought out a short sword and a larger sword that towered over his head.

"ok lads its sword practice to start with, Harold I want you swinging this at that dummy over there so I can gauge how well you handle a sword and where you need improvements"

Jon looked around searching for the by Harold Ser Rodrik mentioned. It wasn't until he followed the man's eyes did he find them upon 'shadow'

"alright then ser, I'll get to it"

Jon watched in amazement as the boy flew into a battle pose, slashing and stabbing at the dummy in a flowing movement. He never stood still but moved with the blade allowing its weight to do the downward swings and then following it up with quick slashes and brutal stabs. Never had Jon seen such an unusually beautiful method of swordsmanship. Men twice the boy's age didn't look as at home with a blade as the boy did carrying his blunted shortsword.

It had been months since the boy had been able to talk. Jon found a companion, like himself an outcast of the Stark household unable to sit at the head table with the other Stark children due to his bastardy birth and Harry's unknown origins. He knew from watching and listening that the boy had a haunted past. Servants whispered of his cries in the middle of the night, shouting out for help, shouting for his uncle to stop, shouting for salvation that only came with the sun breaking the night sky sending his chilling night terrors away.

Harry had been teaching Robb and himself little tricks to wielding their swords better, making it easier for their shorter frames. How simple twists of the wrist to baring your joints at certain times allowed for greater use of the blade still amazed him, and to be taught by one who is but a few years older made it more amazing still, Sir Rodrik hadn't even taught of the moves and yet he was Winterfells master of arms.


End file.
